


Five Times

by LordeMidnight



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Almost Kiss, Dirty Talk, F/M, Five Times, Fluff and Angst, Sexual Tension, aangst aangst aangst, bad jokes brought to you by me, lol get it? because aang plus angst equals aangst, so much yearning, their love languages are touch and acts of service, tw: miscarriage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:00:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27657184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordeMidnight/pseuds/LordeMidnight
Summary: Five times Tenzin should have kissed Lin but didn’t, and the one time he shouldn’t have kissed her but most certainly did.
Relationships: Lin Beifong & Tenzin, Lin Beifong/Tenzin
Comments: 57
Kudos: 128





	1. Singing

**Author's Note:**

> I will literally never get over this couple.

Aang took Tenzin to the Ember Island Carnival when he was just six, but the memory is as fresh in his head as the day he first airbent—because it was coincidentally the same day. Performers teetered and balanced on sticks. Tenzin’s face glowed from the clouds of fire blown from grinning mouths above head. Plumes of smoke danced around the lines of lanterns that decorated the alleyways dotted with palm trees.

It was marvelous and terrifying and enthralling and threatening all at once.

And then a flame got a little too _hot_.

It was instinct.

It was a knee-jerk reaction— _literally_.

Tenzin’s leg shot in front of him on an automatic 90-degree pendulum and sent a blast of air to dispense of the out-of-control fire.

The flames diffused, and in their wake were hundreds of bulging eyes—including those of his father’s, whose shock quickly turned to sheer excitement.

The memory of the cheers from the festival, the spicy food from the vendors, the upbeat music from the performers have since faded from Tenzin’s memory. But, remnants of the sparks that imprinted themselves on Tenzin’s skin, etched forever into his mind, two things remain: his father’s pride and those hundred bulging eyes.

It’s a silly memory that floats to his mind at a time like this, but Tenzin thinks he must look a lot like the hundred bulging eyes, slack-jawed and awed at the _fucking beauty_ that stands before him.

He’s never thought of her that way. Never seen her in this light, never seen that delicate arch of her neck, that sharp cut of her cheekbone. He’s stupefied at the sight of her, at the muscles that slash her arms into a deep _chiaroscuro_ , at the––

“What the hell are you lookin’ at, airhead?”

…at the total snark that tongue can wield.

Tenzin collects himself, _gets his shit together_ , as Kya would tell him, and carefully schools his face into a neutral expression.

“Lin,” says Tenzin, “looking as…as _well_ as ever.”

Lin cocks an eyebrow. “I look as well as _what_?” she mocks.

“Looking as… looking as…”

Bumi claps him on the back, apparently taking pity on his sputtering little brother, “Looking as _radiant_ as ever!” Bumi leaps forward to crush his childhood friend into a hug, shielding Lin from view, but not before Tenzin catches the smattering of blush across her cheeks.

A strange lurch in his stomach.

Not jealousy.

Definitely not jealousy.

Because Tenzin didn’t like Lin like that.

Nope.

But then again…

 _Nope_. Not one bit.

It had been nearly two years since he’d last seen the Beifong clan. The minute Tenzin had completed his schooling at the age of fifteen, his father had whisked him every which way across the globe. Sure, they visited Air Temple Island quite frequently, but his visits never seemed to coincide with that of Toph, Suyin, and Lin. Tenzin had missed his childhood friends—especially Izumi, who he hadn’t seen in double that time—and he had finally, _finally_ arrived back on the island the week prior to the news that the Beifongs would be staying there for the next month—the same amount of time that Tenzin would be back as well.

But apparently a lot has changed in two years. Lin was no longer a mess of gawky limbs. Gone was the smattering of acne that seemed a permanent marking on her chin. Her lack of coordination seemed to have disappeared as well, he noted, as Lin gracefully strode forward to embrace Kya.

She was only sixteen, but she was a full-fledged woman in Tenzin’s eyes.

The two families finished their greetings: Aang endured a few pebbles thrown at his head from Toph; Uncle Sokka chatted excitedly with Suyin about the metal sword she had recently forged; Bumi and Kya had their heads together, no doubt concocting some new mischievous scheme; and Katara was exchanging pleasantries with Lin.

Tenzin simply stood off to the side, watching with one part delight and one part awkwardness. Delight at seeing the three women he considered family in his life again, no matter how short the time, and awkwardness at the sea of emotions swirling in his stomach.

“The hell is your problem?”

Without him realizing it, Toph had materialized at his side, her glassy eyes seemingly unknowing and knowing at once.

“It’s—it’s good to see you–”

“Yeah, yeah,” brushing him off with the wave of her hand, “ _blah blah blah_ , it’s good to see you too, _blah blah blah_ , how’ve you been, _blah blah blah_ , small talk, small talk, small talk.” She huffs, crossing her arms and blowing an errant hair away from her nose before it floats back down into the same spot. “Now tell me _why_ exactly your heart is beating a million miles an hour.”

Tenzin momentarily sputtered, racking his brain for an answer, before Kya slinked over to his rescue. She pushed up onto her tiptoes and threw an easy arm around his shoulders, pulling him down to her height and mussing up the hair that Tenzin had recently allowed to grow back, “He’s just still recovering from our sparring session where I whooped his ass, _ain’t that right Tenzin_?”

Tenzin scowls.

“Language,” he hears his mother chide lightly, coming over to take Toph aside.

The rest of the night proceeds in the same fashion. The teasing is incessant, multiplied tenfold with the arrival of the Beifongs. Kya and Bumi are bad enough, with their strange ability to complete each other’s sentences and read each other’s minds, but Toph keeps punching his arm at random times, Suyin pokes fun at the formal way he uses his chopsticks, and Lin is… well Lin is Lin.

Annoying. Snarky. Sarcastic. Withering. Rude. Argumentative.

But she’s also beautiful. Strong. Funny. Graceful. Independent. Witty. Tough. Sexy— _no no no no no no no_ , NOPE.

He nixes the train of thought, taps into his meditative practice while sitting down for dinner, all too close to Lin for comfort. She sits just to his right, and the slope of her spine as she bends over to eat has him…

“Arroo ofay?” asks Lin, cheeks bulging with food, noodles hanging from her mouth.

“I’m fine,” says Tenzin, returning his attention to his own meal.

“You’re acting weird,” says Lin. She’s swallowed her food, mouth now clear so that she can speak.

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

“No I’m not.”

“Whatever you say, airhead.”

“Lin, I think we’re old enough to drop the nicknames.”

“If it bothers you that much…then I’ll just keep calling you airhead for rest of your life… _airhead_.”

“Great.”

“Lovely.”

“Wonderful.”

Lin rolls her eyes and throws her hands up, exasperated, “Seriously, what’s with the attitude? I haven’t seen you in two years, I get it, but you’re acting as if I’m a stranger. Not to mention the totally weird…”

“Lin!” comes Bumi’s excited voice from her right. “Suyin was just telling me what a _talented_ singer you are…”

“Su!” gasps an embarrassed Lin.

“What?” says Su in the flippant way that reminds Tenzin so much of her mother, “It’s not like you’re exactly _quiet_ when you’re bathing…”

“ _SU! Shut up!_ ” shouts Lin, her face now fully flushed and matching the red on Tenzin’s own face when he thinks of Lin _bathing_.

“But your rendition of ‘Secret Tunnel’ is just sooo good.”

* * *

The noise doesn’t cease until half past midnight. It’s a new moon, and the night sky is dark and milky and the color of his mother’s eyes when she’s angry. Most of the house is asleep, so Tenzin takes the opportunity to slip out the back. He makes his way down the rocky cliff that faces away from Republic City, where a small waterfall hums with white noise, blocking out any lingering sounds of late-night traffic or that nighttime stillness that can just be so… _loud_ at times.

He sits there for a minute, staring out at the horizon, where the inky sea meets the jet-black sky. He doesn’t meditate. He lets his mind wander.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

Tenzin doesn’t jump in surprise at the familiar raspy voice. No, his shoulders simply sag inward, and he draws his knees into his chest. It’s not the defensive stance of airbenders, but it’s an automatic protective move, nonetheless.

“Hi Lin,” he whispers. He feels, rather than hears, her sit down beside him, the ground gently rumbling into a more comfortable seat.

“So, you wanna talk?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“For God’s sake, Tenzin, I just wanna talk.”

Tenzin doesn’t answer.

“You know, I think _I’m_ supposed to be the aloof, moody one. And _you’re_ supposed to be the one pestering _me_ with talk about stupid emotions and expressing how you _feel_ or whatever. At least that’s normally how it goes.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just a lot, being back. I’ve been off with my dad for so long, and seeing Kya and Bumi and mom and you and Suyin and Aunt Toph is great and all, but I just get… overwhelmed sometimes.”

Lin nods, “I get it. They can be a lot.”

“ _A lot_ is an understatement.”

And from there they fall into an easy rhythm.

“Suyin annoys the living hell out of me,” says Lin.

“Kya drives me crazy,” says Tenzin.

“My mom is so fucking— _apathetic_.”

“My mom is so _overly_ empathetic.”

“I just feel so lonely sometimes, with Suyin and mom off on their own…”

“I feel so lonely… being on these… _exciting_ adventures with my dad is great, but I miss my home…”

“At least you have a dad.”

“Lin…”

“No, no. You misunderstand me. That wasn’t… a _jab_ or anything like that. You’re just lucky to have a father. I’d give anything to know mine. It makes me feel incomplete.”

The white noise of the waterfall fills a new expanse of silence.

“You’re not incomplete,” Tenzin says after a few minutes. He turns to look at her, to see those sharp and defined features stand out even in the dead of night. He watches her full lips quirk up at his remark. “You’re… you’re…”

“I’m what, Tenzin?” Lin cocks her eyebrow, and Tenzin knows a sarcastic barb is coming his way before she continues: “I’m _as well as ever_?” She throws his words from earlier that day back at him, when he’s been a blushing and blubbering fool.

“No,” says Tenzin.

“Oh,” says Lin, casting her head down and away to hide her disappointment.

Tenzin falters for a minute, then: “You’re radiant.”

Lin scoffs out a self-deprecating laugh. “Stealing Bumi’s lines now, eh?”

“You’re right, radiance pales in comparison to you.”

“Shut up,” she growls, punching his arm, but before her fist can land, Tenzin catches it in his palm and holds her callused fingers like it’s a lifeline.

“You’re beautiful. You’re whole. You’re… you’re enough.”

“Seriously Tenzin, shut up,” says Lin, but her words pack no heat now. She’s breathless, she’s on fire, she’s spinning from his words.

“No, you shut up Lin. Don’t ever think you’re incomplete, okay? You’re anything but. You’re a force to be reckoned with, a… a…”

“You know earlier at dinner?” Lin interrupts him now, her finger ghosting up his wrist and sending shivers down his spine. “When Su was talking about—”

“About you singing?”

“Yes, about how I sing when I bathe.”

Now it’s Tenzin’s turn to blush.

“Well, that’s not why I was so embarrassed. I mean it _was_ , I’m a terrible singer–”

“Truly awful.”

“ _Tenzin_ ,” she warns. “Well, she was twisting words.”

“What do you mean?”

“She said I was loud.”

"Yes…”

“Just last week, she overheard me… touching myself.” The words come out lighter than air, barely kissing the icy darkness around them. Tenzin, too shocked to say anything in response, simply tightens his fingers in hers, a biological reaction.

Lin continues, “I was touching myself in the bath, making myself feel so good…”

Tenzin starts panting. His breath comes in short spurts.

“She interrupted me, laughed at me, you know Su… _god_ , it was so embarrassing.”

Tenzin barely hears those words though, lingering on the image of Lin with her hand between her leg, head thrown back…

“But before that, it felt _so good_. It was delicious.”

“Fuck, Lin,” says Tenzin, his breath ghosting her neck as he leaned in.

“I didn’t know how loud I was getting. I couldn’t help it. And hearing your words just now… it reminded me of that pleasure. How fucking… _delirious_ I could feel.”

Tenzin’s other hand comes around to find purchase on her inner thigh.

“I wanna know how good _you_ could make me feel.”

He should kiss her. He needs to kiss her. He needs it like air, like sunlight, like––

A delighted screech sounds out behind him, making them both jump practically twelve feet in the air—well, for Tenzin, it is a literal twelve feet. A plume of air expands below him, lifting him unexpectedly to his feet. He turns, and sees Kya running across the field, chasing a young acolyte girl who laughs in delight at Kya’s pursuit. She catches her seconds later, and they tumble into the grass, a mess of limbs. It’s Kya’s latest fling, an orphaned teen named Dalha.

Tenzin turns back to Lin, ready to continue whatever it was they were doing, when––

“SURPRISE!”

It’s Bumi, who appeared out of nothing with such finesse that Tenzin could mistake him for an airbender yet.

Tenzin screeches like Dalha, nearly jumping like a scared girl into Lin’s arms.

“Bumi!” Lin scolds.

“What?” Bumi grins, charming and feigning ignorance. “I come bearing gifts!” He holds out a bottle of amber liquid.

Tenzin scowls, “Air nomads don’t drink alcohol.”

“Well,” says Bumi, flicking the top of the bottle so that the cap goes spinning off, “Lucky for us, we only got _one_ air nomad here, eh Lin?”

“Actually, I think I’m gonna turn in for the night. Long journey,” she starts the trek back towards home, “Night Tenzin.”

Only a wisp of longing lingering in the air.

When she’s out of earshot—Tenzin staring after her—Bumi breaks the silence once again, wrapping an arm around Tenzin’s neck and crushing him in close. “ _Niiiighhhhtt TenZINnnn_ ,” he mimics in a singsong voice. “I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?” He gives an over-exaggerated wink.

“Bumi, one day, I’m going to kill you.”

Tenzin makes his way back to the main temple, Bumi’s words echoing behind him, “That’s not very air nomad of yoU!!”


	2. Drowning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A year later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative title: Zsa Zsa Zsu.

They’re children with matchsticks, him and her.

Faces alight. Wands of flames held out at arms’ length, painting light into the dark. Keeping a rhythm with the chirping cicadas. The moon was high in the sky, its brightness casting the sharp angles of Tenzin’s face into shadows, a topography of mountains and canyons. Lin found herself staring, unable to tear her eyes away from that moon-bathed face that simultaneously flickered with the fire on the ends of their sparklers.

It’s been well over a year since _that_ _night_ , when Lin had confessed her secrets of singing in the water, when Tenzin had gripped her thigh so hard, his nails had left crescent imprints on the inside of her thigh.

A memory to remember him by, since the next day his dad had whisked him away, breaking his promise for a full month at home. Lin remembers rising with the sun that very morning, watching them pack up Appa. She sat by the window, robe wrapped tight behind her, tracing those five crescent moons on her leg when Tenzin had chanced a glance over his shoulder. His blue gaze had rolled through her, hit her in the stomach, found a nest down low below her navel in her _svadhishthana_ chakra.

She blinked and he was gone.

And now they’re here, on Ember Island, invited by Izumi for her birthday. They’d arrived on separate vessels, Tenzin atop of Oogie, and Lin on the bow of Bumi’s ship. Izumi’s vacation home was a maze of secret passages, of hidden family secrets––memories from their childhood. But the ghosts of their younger selves didn’t haunt the abode quite yet ( _no, that wouldn’t happen for another three decades, when Lin was a shell of her former self, when Tenzin was overflowing with regret, when Izumi was prematurely grey from stress, when Bumi was in a constant midlife crisis_ ). And so the _sake_ and the laughter flowed freely as the four family friends caught up with each other on years gone by.

Lin had seen Tenzin a few times since _that night_ , as it’s come to be called in her mind. Each time was fraught with awkwardness, which would relax into comradery, and they would continue to toe the line between friendship and… _something else._ Tenzin’s eyes would bleed black momentarily, Lin’s breath would catch, someone would sway a little closer, and the other would inevitably bail.

“You’re blue-balling each other,” Kya had told her one day in the city, over a meal of pork and cabbage gyoza. “It’s when you—”

“I know what it means, Kya,” snapped Lin.

“I don’t get it!” Kya threw her hands up in the air, “You guys _obviously_ want to tear each other’s clothes off— _don’t roll your eyes at me!_ ”

“I’ll roll my eyes at whoever I damn well please,” said Lin. “Besides, we can’t blue-ball each other if Tenzin doesn’t _have_ the balls to make a move.”

“Maybe I should have a talk with him.”

“Gross, please don’t.”

“You know,” sighed Kya, “when Aika was playing hard to get…”

Kya had trailed off into a narration of her latest seductive conquest; Lin knew Tenzin’s sister had forgotten the subject based off of her glazed over eyes and imaginary hearts swirling around her head.

But tonight is different. Alcohol thrums through Lin’s veins, blurring the world around her in a pleasant way that has little to do with the heat of the night or the humidity in the air. She sits with Tenzin by the ocean, Bumi and Izumi engaged in a tense game of _Pai Sho_ by the roaring bonfire.

They’re writing messages in the sky with their sparklers, the light trailing behind their movements to capture silly words before they disappear into the jet-black night, like water slipping through cupped hands. Lin’s sparkler goes out, leaving Tenzin to spell out _H-A-P_ before his too extinguishes into smoke.

“Happy?” asks Lin, watching his hand continue to move despite the lack of light.

“I was going to write _Happy birthday Izumi_.”

“Better to write that in the sand, it’s too long.”

“Do we have any more sparklers?”

“I think that was the last of them.”

They descend into silence for a few moments, listening to Izumi and Bumi’s quiet chatter.

Lin thinks about the last time they sat by the sea, the air had been tense and hot around them—nothing to do with the climate, no, but with their rising body temperature, the heat of that _something_ between them.

What had Kya called it?

Oh. Right. The _zsa zsa zsu_. A total nonsense phrase that translates to _passion, anger, heat… sex._

Before she realizes it, Lin’s reaching for Tenzin’s hand and tracing _zsa zsa zsu_ into his forearm.

“What’re you doing?”

“Sh,” says Lin, “our sparklers went out, so we have to substitute our skin for light, touch for sight…”

“Well, you’re writing utter nonsense.”

“Am not.”

“Then what the hell does _zsa zsa zsu_ mean?”

Lin huffs and throws his arm back at him so that it smacks him in the chest. “Forget it.”

Tenzin is quiet for a few moments before copying Lin’s earlier motions and gently tugging her forearm towards him. Lin tugs away, but his grip is strong and firm. “Stay still,” he commands. His voice brokers no room for argument.

As light as a feather, he traces nine letters onto the sensitive skin of her wrist: _zsa zsa zsu_.

Lin laughs, sardonic and low, “You don’t even know—”

“Doesn’t matter. I know what it means _here_ ,” he pulls her hand to his chest, settling it right above his heart so that she can feel his pulse thrumming beneath his skin. He’s wearing one of those _sash_ things, a deep red, combining air nomad and fire nation fashion. She thinks the color looks rather good on him (much better than that gaudy yellow), especially since he wears nothing beneath it (aside from his trousers, of course).

Lin’s breath catches in her throat. Sarcasm ripples out of her before she can help it, even if her hand stays steady over his smooth expanse of muscle, “You’ve always been overly sentimental.”

“Mmm,” hums Tenzin, a low growl that she can feel vibrate deep in his chest.

She swallows, shaky fingers carefully lifting to trace _zsa zsa zsu_ over his heart.

She can feel his pulse skyrocket. His eyes darken. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. Eyelids flutter.

She sucks in a deep breath, trying to calm her own racing heart, fill her _anahata_ chakra.

Her fingers twitch again, and as if possessed by something else entirely, she finds herself writing a question on his chest: _S W I M ?_

Tenzin’s head tilts, his eyes searching. And then he nods, wrapping his hand around hers to haul them to their feet. Without breaking eye contact, he unties his _sash thing_ , kicks off his sandals, and pulls down his trousers so that he’s only in his underthings.

Another head tilt. _Your turn_ , it says.

Enraptured, Lin starts to slide off her cover-up to reveal her bikini. It snags around her waist (she forgot the buttons in the back), so she silently turns around and presents her back to Tenzin, moving her hair out of the way. She can _feel_ him step forward, hands steady, as he slowly unbuttons the three fastenings that hold the garment together.

It pools at her feet, leaving her bare except for her bathing suit.

His fingers skate across her neck, not leaving any writing, but the meaning is there all the same, a meaning that Lin tucks deep into her heart, locked away for no one to ever know.

And then he’s pulling her towards the waves, his hand locked around his wrist, and Lin is screeching at the freezing cold water, the sudden contrast of it to the hot and balmy night. She distantly hears herself laughing, hears the sudden cheers of Izumi and Bumi, hears the splash Tenzin makes as he lets go of her and dives underneath the water.

When he resurfaces, he’s grinning at her like a lion about to devour his prey, eyes flickering. _You’re next,_ he says, before lunging at her, gripping her around the waist, and submerging her into the waves.

And while she’s underneath the water, she wills for it to turn into amber, to freeze her like a fly caught in honey, because she never wants to leave this moment.

Because Lin would do anything for Tenzin.

Hell, she’d even drown for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Svadhisthana chakra translates to "where the self is established" and is located in the root of sexual organs. Svadhisthana is represented with a lotus within which is a crescent moon symbolizing the water element. Thus, its meaning in this chapter is two-fold. One, Lin is turned on by Tenzin. Duh. Two, Tenzin has his mother, Katara's, eyes. Katara is, of course, from the water tribe and draws her power from the moon. So Tenzin's gaze hitting that chakra links back to the element of water and his ancestral ties to the moon. Hope that checks out with yall 😂
> 
> The Anahata chakra translates to "unstruck" and is located in the heart. Within it is a yantra of two intersecting triangles, forming a hexagram, symbolizing a union of the male and female as well as being the esoteric symbol for the element of air. This meaning is pretty obvious in this context, lmao.
> 
> Zsa zsa zsu is actually stolen from Sex and the City: Carrie describes it as the feeling you get when you meet someone you really really like. That sort of lovey, butterflies feeling when you just want to be with someone. Source: https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=zsa%20zsa%20zsu. Season 5, Episode 8, "I Love a Charade"
> 
> Of course, in this context it's different 'cause for these two idiots, it means something way way way deeper than what Carrie Bradshaw can ever experience.
> 
> Also I technically know that Lin and Tenzin don't use the Latin alphabet, but for the ease of storytelling, fuck ittt. I might edit this later when I have time, but I'm not sure how I would translate zsa zsa zsu to a Chinese script.
> 
> And FINALLY, Lin and Tenzin's love languages are touch and acts of service, and you can't tell me any differently.


	3. Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lin is beautiful. Lin is empty.  
> Lin knows pain. Lin knows pleasure.  
> Lin finds darkness makes a good warm blanket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dark. I promise the next one will be lighter! Or as light as you can get with these two pining idiots.
> 
> TW: miscarriage

Lin is beautiful.

It’s a fact that she’s only recently come to realize. She can see it in the red flush on her cheeks, the flash of green in her eyes, in the waxy scars that mar her pale skin. She can feel it in the hundred eyes of ogling men, in the weight of desiring spectators.

In the hardness of Tenzin’s flesh.

Tenzin makes her feel beautiful. Like a goddess. He makes her feel better than she ever could in those lukewarm baths with her small hand scrunched up between her legs. If she thought she was singing then—well it’s nothing like the notes that spill from her lips now. Tenzin plays her like an instrument. He bends and twists her body. Strums her deep inside.

Makes her cum and drip like honey.

He tells her that she’s beautiful.

 _God it’s spectacular_.

Tenzin whispers it into her neck, traces it down her spine, licks it in between her thighs.

Lin is beautiful.

The knowledge lifts her chin, throws her shoulders back—it endows her with an unearthly glow that’s unlike the earthly confidence of her kind. It’s like Tenzin’s airbending rubbed off on her ( _or inside her_ ), and she floats, she flits, she flies.

Lin is beautiful.

 _Especially when you fight_ , Tenzin tells her.

Lin is beautiful.

 _She’s really something special_ , Lin overhears Katara tell Toph.

Lin is beautiful.

 _Just one drink, you and me_ , Bumi goads her.

Lin is beautiful.

* * *

Lin knows pain. She knows it like the scars that slash her cheek. She knows it like a bitchy sister, an absentee father, a neglectful mother. Like the mountains of callouses on her palms.

She knows pain like pleasure. How it bursts like an overflowing dam, how it can sear like white-hot lightning. How it can bury deep inside her.

How pain and pleasure are but two sides of the same coin, how loved ones can wield both like weapons.

Yes, Lin knows _pain_.

But _pain_ is nothing like the agony that rips through her lower abdomen like hungry fangs through flesh. There’s something burrowing deep into her _svadhisthana_ chakra––the one that had once given her so much _pleasure_. She’s screaming, she’s begging for mercy, but all she can see is darkness.

And that darkness seems so, so warm.

It’s a blanket, enveloping her.

Telling her everything is going to be alright.

All she has to do is _surrender_.

She rears back against those words— _Beifongs don’t surrender_ , she hears herself bark. She tries to stand, but she’s knocked sideways into a wall, so she lets the solid surface support her weight.

The darkness persists.

She hears someone distantly call her name. She hears herself telling that someone to fuck off. She hears the roars of the flames that dominate the factory around the block, the screams of Republic City’s citizens.

The rough timber of Tenzin’s voice.

“Lin!”

Strong familiar arms wrap around her midsection, and she finally, _finally_ lets herself collapse into his embrace.

The darkness consumes.

* * *

When Lin wakes, it’s to Tenzin’s eyes. Blue and loving and shining with unshed tears.

She blinks. Tries to focus. Tries to think.

“T—Tenzin?”

“Sh,” a cool caress on her forehead, “rest, dear.”

 _Kya_. The sister of the man she loved gazed down at Lin, her bottom lip quaking. There were new lines drawn in the older woman’s skin, which now seem to crackle like paper with every wobble of her lip.

Or perhaps Lin was hallucinating.

Even better, _dreaming_.

“What happened?” rasps Lin.

“Rest.”

“No.”

“Rest.”

Darkness.

* * *

Eventually, Lin evades the warm embrace of the shadows. She drinks water. She swallows solid food. She puts two feet to the ground and feels the hum of the earth beneath her.

“You need to tell me what happened, Kya,” she says. Her vocal cords strain. Her voice is…wrong. Raw. Unused.

Kya sits at Lin’s feet, stirring a small pot of water. Gently, she unwraps Lin’s left foot and guides it into the pot of water. After a moment, the water starts glowing, and Lin sighs in relief as the healing energy works its way through her body.

Throughout it all, Kya keeps her gaze down and fiddles with the necklace around her neck.

“Kya!” Lin tries to yell, but only manages to sound like a demented animal, with consonants catching in her throat.

A single tear slides from Kya’s nose and splashes in the pot of water, and Lin swears she can feel that single tear’s pain ripple into her bones.

“ _Please_ ,” begs Lin.

Lin almost kicks the pot of water, almost thrashes wildly like a child when Kya finally speaks: “You were attacked.”

 _Obviously_ , Lin wants to snark but holds her tongue for fear of screaming out blood.

“You were attacked,” repeats Kya, “by Jiao-long. You know the name.”

Lin’s blood runs cold.

* * *

Lin is beautiful.

 _A face like that will have men at her feet_.

Lin is beautiful.

 _You should be careful_ , Jiao-long’s voice floats like smoke from a distant memory tucked into the back of Lin’s mind, _men have gone to war for less._

Lin had become used to the men who stare like wanton sheep or hungry wolves. It was like leaves on a vine, blended into the background of her environment. She got so used to it that she didn’t even notice when one certain pair of eyes lingered on her every move, when brown irises bled into black, when they watched her in the shadows.

Those eyes followed her home that night, and Lin ignored the prickle that ran up her spine.

Jiao-long. _The motherfucker_.

A new recruit at the Police Academy. A handsome, skilled man of few words, who kept to himself.

Who kept to the shadows, who dealt in corruption, who sacrificed himself to obsession.

A traitor.

Apparently, Jiao-long was associated with an emerging terrorist equalist group set out to eliminate benders. Lin had never heard of such an ideology, but her stomach flips when Kya tells her about how Jiao-long ambushed her. He cornered her, tried to kill her. Apparently, Lin gave one hell of a fight. She’d nearly pummeled the fucker when ten of his cronies materialized from the shadows. Still, she held her own. And then another ten.

“But you were weak,” says Kya, “because of your condition.”

Lin bristles, “I’m not weak.”

“I know that, love, but your pregnancy—"

“I—I’m pregnant?” asks Lin, incredulous, her hand moving to her lower abdomen, only to feel a sharp jolt of pain upon contact.

And she knows. She knows before Kya starts sobbing, shaking her head, apologizing, saying _she did everything she could do_.

The baby was gone, and Lin was left with emptiness.

* * *

She didn’t see Tenzin for a few days. She didn’t want him to see her so empty. Void of emotion. Void of life.

Of his child’s life.

Kya tells her that Tenzin doesn’t know, that Lin’s recovery is between them.

Lin promises herself that she’ll never tell.

When she does see him, he looks like he’s aged thirty years. A sick part of her wants to laugh about it—she always told him she liked an older man—but her heart just breaks instead.

 _I’m sorry_.

 _I don’t remember_.

 _I’m sorry_.

He holds her, gently rocks her, tells her it’s going to be okay.

_I’m so happy._

_You’re okay._

_You’re okay._

_Nobody died._

_It’s all over now._

_We're okay._

_My Lin, my strong Lin._

_All in one piece._

His lips move around these lies.

She just wants to feel his lips on her skin.

But she feels nothing at all.

Just emptiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise the next chapter will be lighter! Or as light as I can write at least, lol. ((oh wait, actually i might write about the break-up so please dont hold me to this promise im sorry))
> 
> If you can believe it, this chapter was originally way darker. Like... way darker. I had to reel in it and remember my audience. This is based off a cartoon after all. 
> 
> With that being said, if you do want the darker version of this chapter, leave me a comment, and I can either send it to you or post the chapter separately! Normally I'd just file away the version into my drafts, but I am quite proud of it despite the disturbing themes.
> 
> Also, I do love constructive criticism. So if I suck, please just let me know how I can improve.


	4. Mourning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These idiots need therapy.

When Tenzin looks in the mirror, he fully expects to see the face of his youth staring back at him: bright, fresh eyes; an easy smile; energy radiating from his core.

What he sees instead are the beginnings of crows’ feet around his eyes, exhaustion in his posture, and––

“ _No,_ ” he whispers, drawing closer to the mirror, pulling his bangs down.

Is that–– _it can’t be_.

The bathroom door creaks open, and Lin stomps in to collapse onto the toilet and pee. She’s rubbing the sleep from her eyes still, unaware of the sudden existential crisis overtaking her boyfriend.

“Morning,” she yawns, wiping and flushing the toilet.

“ _No no no no no_ ,” he whispers.

“ _’Good morning to you too, darling_ ,’” Lin’s voice drops a few octaves in a poor imitation of Tenzin’s deep voice, “ _’Sleep well last night? Hope my incessant snoring didn’t_ —’”

Tenzin cuts off Lin by suddenly grabbing her shoulders and shaking her, bringing them closer together so that their noses were mere inches apart. “ _Do you see this_?” he hisses.

“What’re you on about now? Last week it was the mole on your butt and––“

“Lin, be serious!”

Lin cocks an eyebrow, “What’s your deal?”

“ _This_ is my deal!” says Tenzin, pulling at his roots and swaying in comical exasperation.

“For God’s sake—”

“I’m getting _old!_ ”

“Uh, yeah, we literally celebrated your birthday, like, a week ago—”

“Physically old!”

“What on earth—”

Tenzin clutches her shoulders once again, bringing them eye to eye: “I’m going _gray_.”

Lin stares at him, wide-eyed, surprised at his sudden mid-life crisis at the age of just thirty-five––before throwing her head back and cackling in laughter.

“Oh, you fuckin’ airhead,” she says, flicking his forehead with her pointer finger, “of course you’re going gray! And you _are_ getting old!”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

“Well, if you keep up this _oh so witty banter_ , then no, you’re really not.”

“Lin!” says Tenzin, swaying back towards the mirror. He drags his hands down his face, pulling at his eye sockets, leaving him with terrified, bulging eyes, and apparently, a head full of old man crazies. “I thought we had more time! There’s still so much for us to do, so much for us to see. We’ve barely gotten started building our future together, and now this?! This absolute icon of depreciation and disintegration and—"

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Monologuing.”

“I—pssh—I don’t monologue!”

“Sure,” says Lin, pecking him on the cheek and exiting the bathroom, “whatever you say, love.”

* * *

They’re at those _things_ Lin hates. Fucking charity balls that don’t do shit for the poor. They’re all for show; all the proceeds go to paying for the event, after all. And they’re so… audacious… with the glitz and glam and gaudy and––

“Help me think of another _G_ -word.”

“Glitter?”

“ _Glitter_ ,” moans Lin, slumping against a pillar, “the fucking glitter is the goddamn worst.”

“You’re gonna have to watch that mouth in front of the press,” Tenzin chides softly, wrapping his hands around her hips to pull her in close.

“Or what?” Lin folds her hands into the front of Tenzin’s robes, “You gonna shut it for me?”

Tenzin draws his lips near to her ear, tracing the shell with his tongue, sending shivers down her spine. “I’ll just make it hard for you to breathe,” he whispers, “have you gasping for air.” He trails his hand up her side from her hip, dusting over her ribcage, over her breast, before wrapping it around her throat and gently squeezing.

“Mmm. You know I love breathplay.” Lin scratches the back of his neck, playing with the hair there, twisting it around her fingers.

“In that case, I’m afraid I might be rewarding bad behavior.”

“We can’t have that.”

“Certainly not for the Chief of Police.”

“The Airbending Master promoting _bad behavior_?” Lin asks in mock horror, “I might have to arrest you.”

“As long as you promise to use those metal cables on me.”

“Oh god, we all know how that ended up last time,” Lin laughs, breaking the tension that had been building between them.

Tenzin laughs along with her and drops his forehead against her shoulder. His shoulders shake as he says, “The whole west wing of the air temple ended up in _pieces_.”

“Thank god your dad wasn’t there to—”

Tenzin’s blood runs cold. He can _hear_ Lin’s jaw snap shut, teeth clacking together so hard it _hurts,_ but she’s realized her mistake too late.

_Aang._

_Dad._

_Gone._

_Pale._

_Cold._

_Dad._

_Still._

_Blue._

_Cold._

Tenzin is already pulling away from her, that distant glaze misting over his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she says, cool air rushing into the new space between their bodies, “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” says Tenzin. He rearranges his robes, smooths his hands through his hair. “It’s fine.”

Tenzin knows he’s a bad liar; he can see the distrust in Lin’s gaze, in the concerned tilt of her head—he knows it in the racing of his heart, the vibrations of which he knows Lin can feel through that _seismic sense_ that's oh so handy.

And it isn’t fine. Even without Lin’s ability to detect liars a mile away, even without his horrid bluffs and her keen perception, it’s only been six months since Aang passed. Since Tenzin watched his dad die of _old age_ in a youthful vessel of a body.

Aang’s blue and cracked and bloody lips and rattling breath and cold, limp fingers are still fresh to Tenzin, a constant reminder, like a skeleton knocking on his _ajna_ chakra.

 _Tap tap tap_.

Death is _cold_.

_Tap tap tap._

Death is _apathetic_.

 _Tap tap tap_.

Death will visit you at night.

It enters your dreams.

It lurks in the corners of your mind

Death is a patient reaper who wears souls like rings around bony, decaying fingers.

Tenzin’s shoulders shake. Less than a minute ago, it was with laughter. Now it is to quell the balloon swelling in his chest, the one threatening to burst and climb through his throat—Tenzin thinks he might puke.

“Tenzin—”

Chatter and giggles and jeers interrupt Lin. A block of light momentarily blinds them both, and they both turn to see a group of party-goers stumbling out of the front doors of city hall, their faces alight with joy and gaits messy with drunkenness.

Tenzin looks back to Lin. He looks at the way the light from inside has cast her face into a deep _chiaroscuro_ , the night pulling the valleys of her face into deep shadows as her lips twist deeper into a frown.

He wants to kiss that frown away.

But then death does that gentle knock ( _tap tap tap_ ); that skeletal finger strums his synapses.

Instead, he says: “Let’s go inside.”

* * *

An hour passes.

It feels like that time was gouged away by a knife.

Tenzin doesn’t know what landed him sitting at a table with some nosy journalist. He doesn’t know how many shots of _sake_ he’s thrown back. He doesn’t know where Lin is—his eyes scan the room automatically at that, catching her in an intense debate with some young politician. Her eyebrows are furrowed over those sharp green eyes as she jabs a finger at— _What was his name? Raiko?_ —and rips the kid a new one.

Oh, how he loves that fire of hers.

The journalist clears her throat, and he redirects his attention back to her.

“Sorry, I was just—”

“Checking in on the _notorious_ Lin Beifong?”

“Yes, she’s—just wanted to make sure she was having a good time.”

“She seems to be in a, _ahem_ , lively discussion with Raiko.”

“Well, Lin loves a challenge.”

Only a beat passes before the journalist starts: “I wanted to ask you a few questions concerning your father.”

Tenzin registers that he's nodding.

“Firstly, I wanted to express my condolences. I’m sure this has been a very hard time for you and your wife.”

“Ah—yes. Well, Lin isn’t my wife.” The alcohol seems to take over when he adds, “Not yet.”

The journalist’s eyes light up. “Oh! Is there an engagement on the horizon?”

 _Foot, meet mouth_ , Tenzin thinks. His eyes twitch in a poor imitation of a smile, “You’ll have to wait and see, I suppose.”

“Right,” she scribbles something onto her notepad, “and, what might your father’s death entail for the future of the Air Nomads? Or—erm, the Air Nation?” The journalist blushes and flips furiously through her notes, “I’m sorry, I’m not entirely sure…” she starts rambling about not knowing the proper terminology, about the obscurity that shrouds his culture.

Tenzin fights the urge to sulk.

“I guess what I’m asking is how you plan to, uh, ‘ _preserve your culture_ ’?”

Tenzin blinks.

“You know, seeing as to how you’re the last airbender and all.”

“The last airbender,” repeats Tenzin.

His head sways.

His breath comes up short.

 _Tap tap tap_.

“Excuse me,” he says. He hears his chair scrape out from underneath him and only realizes that he’s shot to his feet when suddenly he’s moving across the floor, his legs carrying him on their own will to a darkened and abandoned hallway.

He’s gasping.

 _The last airbender_.

_Tap tap tap._

_Aang. Dad. Cold._

_Tap tap tap._

_Blue. Still. Gone._

_Tap tap tap._

_The last airbender._

Tenzin’s collapsed against the wall, and he looks up to see his terrified face reflected in a mirror. His eyes are wide, bulging. A sickly humorous echo of his expression from this morning when he found that grey hair on his temple.

He’s getting old. He’s running out of time.

He feels the pressure concretely now, like those hands of death are now pushing on his shoulders, pushing his weight into the ground. For an airbender, he’s feeling awfully heavy.

“Hey.”

It’s Lin. Her presence is sudden; Tenzin must’ve been so consumed by his own thoughts that he hadn’t heard her approaching. He jumps at the sounds of her voice, but the feeling of her hand against his shoulder soothes him, and that weight is momentarily lifted.

He sighs in relief.

“Are you okay? I saw you running out of the banquet hall.”

“I’m fine.”

“Tenzin,” Lin crouches down next to him, “cut the shit. Tell me what’s going on.”

“The journalist—she—she was asking questions… about… you know…”

“Ah,” says Lin. “You wanna talk about it?”

“I want… I want to go home.”

* * *

When they get home, Tenzin sits on the edge of their bed. Lin stands in front of him, a basin of water at her feet. He bows his head in front of her. It’s not a sign of submission; it’s a request.

Lin threads her fingers through his hair. Scoops some water from the basin, pours it over his head. Whispers that it’s going to be alright, that it’s going to be okay. So low that he can’t hear, her lips move soundlessly in a blessing.

It’s like a baptism.

She asks him if he's sure he wants her to do this. If he trusts her.

_I trust you._

She places the blade of the base of his neck and begins her work.

Lin shaves Tenzin’s head while he weeps into her belly.

When she’s finished, she tells him it’s so shiny that she can see her own reflection.

They crawl into bed, tangled around each other like vines.

They don’t sleep.

They breathe in tandem together, their chests rising and falling in a measured staccato.

Lin waits.

A half-hour must pass before Tenzin finally speaks.

“I’m the last airbender,” he says.

Lin pushes her lips to his neck—not a kiss, just gentle pressure to encourage him to continue.

“My father—he’s gone. Well, not _gone gone_ , he’s probably somewhere in this world, bothering a new set of parents, wailing and screaming and pooping his diapers.”

He feels Lin’s lips curve into a smile against his jaw.

“But that’s just it, isn’t it? He lives on through the creation of another. He lives on because new life has entered this world.”

Lin’s lips withdraw.

“I have to honor my father through new life. His culture— _my culture_ —must live on.”

“What’re you getting at?” rasps Lin.

“We’re not getting any younger Lin. I know you don’t like talking about it, but we have to. I want—no, I _need_ a family. I _want_ you, but I _need_ a family.”

Lin pulls away fully now, turning over onto her side, away from Tenzin, “I can’t give that to you.”

“Why not?” asks Tenzin, reaching out to caress her shoulder. “I want you to have my baby.”

Lin curls in around herself, her arms pulling into her midsection. “What if it’s an earthbender?”

“That’s not the—”

“It is though.” The mattress shifts, and Lin sits up now, her legs dangling over the edge. The moonlight from outside highlights the ridges of her spine, and Tenzin traces a finger over the bumps, up and down, up and down. He tries to trace _zsa zsa zsu_ into the dimples on her low back, but she pulls away from his searching touch.

“Look at Aang and Katara," Lin says, shoulders hunching. "Three kids. One airbender. I… I wouldn’t want to put that kind of pressure on my child. On me.”

“Lin, I would never ask that—”

“No, Tenzin, I—”

“Will you look at me?”

Lin turns, and Tenzin sees that familiar ghost in her eyes, the one that’s danced around the jade green of her irises for the past few years like she's haunted. It’s evasive, it slips through his fingers like water, it’s something he can’t place.

 _Tap tap tap_.

I’m no mother, says Lin.

 _Tap tap tap_.

I’d be like my mom.

_Tap tap tap._

I’d fuck it up.

 _Tap tap tap_.

Tenzin pushes. The tapping won’t stop. For once, it’s on his side, it’s trying to send him a message, trying to set his _ajna_ chakra alight.

 _Tap tap tap_.

Tell me, says Tenzin.

 _Tap tap tap_.

I want to put a baby in you.

 _Tap tap tap_.

I need this.

It’s those three words that send Lin over the edge, that sends her into howls and sobs. Tenzin wraps himself around her shaking body, as she screams for absolution, as she curses the beyond for robbing her of life. She’s sputtering nonsense, something about _death_ and _gone_ and _sorry, sorry, sorry_. Tenzin’s only seen her like this once, after that attack by Jiaolong and––

 _Tap tap tap_.

Death is trying to tell him something, but Tenzin pushes the instinct away. He doesn’t want to know.

* * *

They don’t find sleep until the break of dawn.

Their faces are red and raw, their limbs are tangled like vines again, and their foreheads are pressed together.

Tenzin stares at Lin’s face as the sunrise melts her features into gold.

She mourns in her sleep, he thinks. She’s been mourning for years, but keeps it locked in a coffin, deep in her chest.

He wants to drink the pain from her lips, suck the poison from her soul. Kiss her better, kiss her until she’s whole.

But he doesn’t know how, so he stares and stares and stares.

* * *

Lin wakes at midday.

She pushes away from a snoring, drooling Tenzin, and makes her way to the bathroom.

She splashes her face and turns off the faucet, but the water continues dripping from her forehead as she stares down the demons that dance in her eyes: _tap tap tap_ , the water splashes, each one sounding out the secrets she can’t speak into existence, the ones that she can’t burden Tenzin with because she knows, she _knows,_ it will ruin him.

 _Tap_.

I’ve had two miscarriages.

 _Tap_.

I can’t do that again.

 _Tap_.

I won’t do that again.

 _Tap_.

I won’t let something die inside me again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is going to be current Linzin (LoK era), and I'm excited to write about their ✨impure thoughts✨ and 🍓forbidden lust🍓. 'Cause COME ON, y'all KNOW they wanted to BONE!
> 
> Also, I feel like writing airbender smut should involve some form of breathplay. And I feel like Tenzin is kinky. And that he lays pipe.
> 
> The 'ajna chakra' is the third eye chakra and relates to intuition. On one hand, Tenzin is ignoring his intuition regarding Lin's aversion to pregnancy. He knows what's up on a deeper level, but just can't quite connect the dots. On the other hand, it relates to communication. Tenzin obviously needs to talk more about Aang's death and is bottling up his feelings. The part about intuition will come into play later. 
> 
> I honestly did not expect this much plot when I started writing it, but hey, I'm rolling with it.
> 
> Let me know what you guys thought of this chapter :) Your response to my last one was so heartwarming! I'm glad you are all enjoying it. It brings me a lot of confidence and happiness. 🤠


	5. Restraint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tenzin and Lin have a sparring match.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Christmas gift.

> _“The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself.”_
> 
> _-Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Grey, 1891_

***

Tenzin is screwed.

He watches as Lin glows white-hot and electric, humming with newfound palpable energy. She stands, arms outstretched with bent wrists and flexed muscles. As she thrusts her energy outwards, a dozen colossal monoliths lift from the earth to form a ring around the temple. They’re not only emblems of Korra’s restorative abilities, but of the woman’s inherent strength. The enormous monuments rumble to the ground as she releases them, exhaling with a huff.

As he approaches the podium where she and Korra stand, Lin meets his gaze. That sparkle has returned to what have been recently lifeless eyes, and her lips quirk with victory. Something low in his stomach starts squirming.

He wants to go to her.

He quickly diverts his eyes and pushes the feeling down deep, past where his _svadhisthana chakra_ dances. He hears Lin thank Korra, so he focuses his attention on the Avatar, whose own blue eyes gleam with pride and humility and something darker that he can’t quite place. He tells her how proud he is of her—of her dedication in overcoming the horrid deeds by Amon, her power in pouring that energy into Lin, who stands as a pillar of strength.

He hugs Korra and rests his chin on the top of her head to look at Lin, who watches them with that slant of a smile. It’s the most emotion he’s seen from her in years—anachronistic to the bitterness she’s worn like a mask. He can see a glimpse of her younger self, and then it’s gone as her smile fades and she sinks back into those weary bones.

Korra pulls away, and Tenzin approaches Lin without breaking eye contact. He reaches out his hand, and they clasp each other’s arms at the elbow. A sliver of Lin’s skin rubs against his wrist—warm, compared to the coolness of the air.

Tenzin shivers.

It’s a beautiful moment with the sun hitting the ocean behind them, the air cast in golden, cleansing light. And when he looks to Lin and sees those unshed tears of _absolute relief_ , he wants nothing more to scoop her in his arms and twirl her around in the air until she tells him to _put her the hell down for god sake!_

Instead, he sucks in a breath and gives her a nod.

She nods back.

It’s a start.

And when she lets her hand drop, his heart falls with it.

Tenzin is so utterly fucking screwed.

* * *

“Fight me.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” snarks Lin, pointing her chopsticks at Tenzin’s face. “Spar with me.”

“I’m eating dinner.”

“Yeah, and you’re being a real smartass too.”

“Lin! _Language_ ,” scolds Tenzin, but it’s too late.

While Pema hides her amused smile behind her hand as she chews, Meelo latches on to the swear, conjuring an air scooter and zooming around the room shouting: “ _Smartass, smartass, smartass!_ _My dad’s a smartass!_ ”

“Meelo!” Tenzin slams his bowl on the table and turns to Pema, “It’s not funny.”

“Not even a little bit?” she teases.

“No!”

Meelo continues chanting: “ _Smartass, smartass, smartass!_ ”

“I am _not_ a smartass,” Tenzin flubbers. “Lin! Now, look at what you’ve done.”

“You’re right, sorry,” Lin rolls her eyes. “If you actually were a smartass, you’d be able to come up with a better comeback. _Or_ you would show your worth in goddamn sparring match.”

“ _Gooooddddamnnn!_ ” says Meelo, ending his air scooter laps around the dining room with a flamboyant flip to land back in his cushion.

Tenzin ignores his son’s antics, narrowing his eyes at Lin. “I don’t think you’re ready yet.”

“Well,” interrupts Korra, popping her knuckles, “if Tenzin’s too scared to go up against you, I’m willing to take a crack at it.”

“No, absolutely not,” says Tenzin. “It’s been less than a week since either of you has had your bending restored, you have to take a cautious approach—”

“Oh, get off your soapbox,” Lin waves a hand at him. “Remember when you got your ass handed to you after the New Ozai Society resurgence?”

“Seriously, Lin, please watch your language.”

“You were ready to get back into battle with _two_ broken arms. _And you did_.”

“And my joints _still_ hate me for that decision.”

“Blah, blah, blah, yadda, yadda, yadda,” Lin makes a flapping motion with her hand. “ _Korra_!”

“Yes, Chief?”

“You think you can take me?”

“Oh, I _know I can_.”

“Prove it.”

Without a moment’s hesitance, Lin launches a metal cable across the dinner table. Korra narrowly dodges the attack, using her airbending to flip across the table in retaliation.

Pema sighs, “Not at the dinner table!”

The two hotheaded women start fighting in earnest, and Korra kicks Lin in the stomach, sending the older woman careening through the wall. Korra follows through on the attack, rushing out of the temple to continue the fight, leaving Tenzin’s family in a cloud of dust and causing Tenzin’s soup to splash into his face.

“That’s it!” he says, wiping the liquid from his scowl. “Enough!” he calls, conjuring an air wheel to chase after the pair.

Pema blinks at her children, who are all overwhelmed with laughter: “Who wants dessert?”

* * *

It’s one versus one versus one. Tenzin, who had intended on breaking up the fight, now found himself embroiled in the action, deflecting attacks from both Lin and Korra on either side. Korra has taken to sending hot bursts of fire his way, while Lin tries to destabilize the ground on which Korra stands.

They both put up a pretty good fight. While the fight was firstly relegated to the front courtyard, it quickly spills over into the cliffs and nearby ocean as Korra draws upon the strength of the waves to send sharp icicles at Lin, who was momentarily distracted and disoriented by Tenzin’s erratic footwork. Tenzin watches as a sharp end of an icicle gets just a _little too close_ to Lin’s cheek and launches a burst of air to derail the path of the projectiles that follow.

Lin notices Tenzin’s assistance and narrows her eyes at him while she catches her breath: “ _Hey!_ I can take care of myself.”

“Well, you’re doing a real shit job at it,” says Tenzin, grabbing Lin by the hips and throwing her in the air when Korra blasts another fireball in their direction.

Lin uses a metal cable to latch onto a cliff, swinging herself right back at Tenzin. Her foot connects with her chest, knocking the breath from his lungs. He goes flying backwards, padding his landing with an extra cushion of air.

“Cheap shot,” he gasps once he’s back on his feet.

Lin smirks, “That’s what they call me.”

Despite the moon overhead, the night is hot with humidity, and Tenzin’s robes are only weighing him down. He unclasps his robes, letting them billow to the ground and leaving his bare from the waist up, clad only in a pair of trousers.

Lin’s smile grows, “You’re gonna have to do better than that.”

“Only trying to make it a fair match,” Tenzin nods at Lin’s outfit; she’s foregone the metal armor of her police uniform, opting for that classic white tank top.

Lin’s eyes glimmer, flicking up and down his body.

Tenzin’s stomach rolls.

 _He’s so fucking screwed_.

A wave of saltwater cascades over the pair, dousing them both in _cold_. Without even breaking eye contact, both Tenzin and Lin send a respective blast of air and torrent of earth towards the bender in question. Korra’s distant yelp and even further splash into the ocean is the confirmation they need that she’s out for the count.

And then there were two.

They fall into a familiar dance. Tenzin knows her tells—he can see it in the flick of her eyes, in the curl of her wrist when she bends. Lin knows his defenses—she knows where he’ll go when he dodges, where he places his feet when he lands.

She attacks. He defends.

He strikes. She parries.

She charges. He shields.

Tenzin knows the flex of those shoulder muscles. He remembers how they feel beneath his palm, how they blended so seemingly into that curve of her neck, now flexed with prominent tendons as she grits her teeth. He knows that bite too—remembers how his skin felt between her teeth.

He selfishly wonders if she would bite him again to win the fight.

 _A cheap shot_.

In a momentary stalemate, Lin lifts the hem of her tank top to wipe at the sweat on her forehead.

Tenzin takes the opportunity, using the air around her to swirl her into a stone wall. As she gasps for air, he closes the distance, instinctively placing his hands on either side of her head. He looms over her, closing her in. “Are you done yet?” he hisses, adrenaline pumping through his veins. One hand inches closer to her face, curling just beneath her face at the junction of her jaw and neck. “Are you _happy_ you got your fill of this—this—whatever the hell this self-inflicted punishment is?”

Lin glares at him, still heaving and trying to catch her breath: “Fuck you.”

“I mean _what the hell, Lin_? Are you _trying_ to hurt yourself?”

“You’re the one who—”

“Is that why you gave yourself to Amon?”

Lin’s eyes widen. Tenzin’s expression mirrors her own, shocked at his own words.

“I—I’m sorry,” he says, pushing himself away from the wall and dropping his hands. “That was—that was out of line, I—” he uses a free hand to drag it down his sweaty face.

Then, in an instant, it’s _his_ back against the wall as Lin turns the tables on him. He feels the rock lock around his wrists; Lin has bended the stone to secure his hands next to his head, his elbows bent. He’s tied up, at her mercy. Lin steps forward, a finger in his face. “Don’t you _dare_ throw that in my face like that.”

“I’m sorry,” Tenzin rasps.

“I did that for _you_ and _your family_.”

“I know.”

“How could you even think _for a second_ …” she trails off, dropping her hand and head. Tenzin feels the ends of her hair swing forward, tickling his chest.

He swallows. “Lin. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about…the look on your face, before you…sacrificed yourself. I never thought I’d see you again.”

The restraints around his wrists drop, and he uses his arms’ newfound liberation to grasp Lin’s hips, twirling them around again to push _her_ into the rocky cliff. When her back finds the stones, he curls his fingers under her chin to force her to look up at him. “I saw your eyes, that flash of green, and I couldn’t _think_ , I couldn’t _feel_ …”

“Tenzin…” Lin rasps, sliding a hand up his chest. She wraps her hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer so that their foreheads rest against each other.

They breathe each other in, their chests rising and falling in a rapturous rhythm. They breathe in the moonlight. The scent of salty sweat and seawater on their skin. That subtle aroma of jasmine that seems to always permeate Lin’s pores.

Desire courses through Tenzin’s veins. He remembers the way her skin reacts beneath his touch. How he can paint her skin with goosebumps, with saliva, with cum. How he makes _her_ sing, the sounds of her pleasure when he _makes_ her cum.

His hips react instinctively, rolling forward, and they both moan when his hardness rub against her hip. His brain short circuits: “All I know is that I want you.”

“Tenzin…”

“I’ve never stopped wanting you.”

Lin whimpers.

Tenzin leans in.

He feels her hot breath against his lips.

And then: Korra’s sharp voice cuts through the thick moonlight: _“Lin!_ Where are you hiding, you coward? I’m coming for round two!”

They jump apart; cool air fills the space between them as reality cuts in like a blade to the gut.

It’s just in time too, it seems, as Korra rounds the corner just moments later. “There you are!” she exclaims. “I hope Tenzin didn’t wear you out too much, I… _what’s his deal?_ ”

Tenzin is turned away from the pair, marching up the path to his home. He stays angled away from Korra as he turns the corner, keeping his desire hidden from her. Once he’s gone from view, he collapses against a tree in relief, not quite out of earshot it seems.

“Oh, he’s just pissy that he lost,” Lin attempts to say flippantly. She fails, of course—her voice is too high, and she sounds winded. While a post-fight loss for breath is common, Lin has a characteristic edge to her voice following a good fight; instead, there’s a subtle softness that permeates the ends of her consonants.

“Hm,” says Korra. “Wait… are _you_ okay?”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Lin snaps.

“Really? ‘Cause you seem… flustered.”

The rumble of ripping earth signifies an attack on Lin’s part, and the night is soon consumed with distant sounds of their battle.

Tenzin pants, staring at the stars while trying to get his body under control.

But all he can think of is Lin’s lips. That flash of green eyes. The flush that spread from her cheeks, to her neck, to her chest, dipping below that white tank top. If Korra hadn’t interrupted, he’d have followed that flush with his tongue, traced the edges of her breasts. Would’ve bitten into the juncture of her neck with his teeth.

Marked her as _his_.

He would’ve let her ghost the shell of his ear with her own tongue. Lick the salt of his skin down his neck. Trace those nine letters with her sharp nails into red lines running down his back.

Marked him as _hers_.

But they don’t belong to each other.

Tenzin tries to remind himself of this.

He let her go.

But when he dips his fingers below the edge of his trousers, to the corner of his hip, raised skin runs beneath his touch. He traces that other tattoo, the one in white ink, the one that glows underneath the moon. A reminder of what he lost.

 _Zsa zsa zsu_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know how you guys liked it! I really enjoyed writing this. I've never really written "fight" scenes before, so this was my first stab at it (pun intended).
> 
> But gahdamn, these two are just too hot for me to handle.
> 
> To clarify: yes, Tenzin has those nine letters tattooed on his hip in white ink. And yes, he runs his fingers over the subtle indentations of the tattoo every day. 
> 
> Vote yes or no in the comments down below as to whether or not you want full-blown smut in the next chapter ;) 👇🏻


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